Concave

Me, it's me in the mirror.
What are you looking at so strangely?

Me, looking at myself in the mirror?
When you you
You are the reflection of all that is wrong.

Your mind ready to fornicate on command.
The coded gene life you have.
The open black book dressed for success.

Why are you staring at your deep eye sockets
in the mirror? Now.
You are walking away.
Walking closer to the source of the reflection.

This is part of a long history of cancellations.
You and time don't mix.
Stare at the prospect of endless you.

Here you stand looking past me
at all the others like you.
This is like stretching an inch of happiness
into a brainstorm of activity. When?
All you are is a link in the action.

Why are you looking at tomorrow's someone
when you have subtly approved it already?
You donated data for the whole
and then exchanged remorseful glances.

You are apt to expire just when
turning the calendar to the next day's date
before the current day is finished. You.
Forget what's in the mirror as only a reflection.

This is you with face lit in the mirror
from a light to one side.

Mark, 1990